Road Trips and Revelations
by mural
Summary: Grissom and Greg are headed to the same place: Santa Gabriel. Greg gives Grissom a ride and his boss learns a thing or several about his most obscure employee. NOT DONE! R&R por favor! NOT SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**Don't own them. Jeez, if any of us did, WHY would we be writing these? We'd be writing for the freaking show!**

**Chapter 1**

Grissom hated MapQuest. With a passion. It also didn't help he was terrible at follwing directions. He scowled at the computer screen as Catherine came in.  
"Do you need help?"  
"No," said Grissom defensively. "I don't." He was already upset enough about being forced into vacation. He sure as hell didn't need any _help_. Nick poked his head around Catherine and smiled.  
"Vacations are good Griss. You'll enjoy it. Where're you going anyway?" He came around the desk and a narrowed his eyebrows. "Santa Gabriel. Ahh, I hear they're rich there."  
"No, they're not," said a voice. It was Greg. He came in with a file. "That's where I was born and we're certainly not rich. It's the tourists who are rich. And the damned snow birds." He set the file on Grissom's desk. "You going there?" Grissom nodded. Greg laughed incredulously. "Why? There's nothing there but candy shops, cafes and trinket stores. You'll be bored to tears."  
"Actually, I'm visiting the entomology program at the local university." Greg nodded.  
"Do you know how to get there?"  
"Ah...No." Greg laughed.  
"Look, I'm heading back home for the week. We already talked about this. God your memory sucks. Anyway, headed home. My baby sister is graduating _and _getting married and my older sister has a another little one due any second now. Do you need a ride?" Catherine laughed behind her hand. Greg turned around. "What?"  
"I'm sorry, but, Greg? Can you even drive?"  
"I am capable of driving, yes."  
"You have a usuable vehicle."  
"I sold the damn Jeep for Christ's sake, what else to you want? I even got a damn Volvo. Which rides very pleasantly I might add." He turned to Grissom. "So?"  
"Sure."

Of course by "Sure," Grissom meant, "No way in _hell_ am I driving with you Greg." But Greg, and everyone else, thought sure meant sure and Catherine gave Greg Grissom's address before Grissom could even argue. So much for flying.  
On Saturday morning, Greg pulled up in front of Grissom's house. He didn't ring the door bell, just pulled up and waited. Grissom got in the car after putting his suitcase in the truck and admired its cleanliness.  
"I didn't clean it for you, if that's what you're thinking. It's always clean. Contrary to popular belief I am _not_ a pig."  
"I never said that."  
"You were thinking it."  
Silence.  
"Do you have any tolerable music?"  
"Yes," said Greg through gritted teeth. Grissom noticed he was very tense and would not look at him.After they got on the highway though, his shoulder relaxed and he whistled along to a Vivaldi piece. Grissom was impressed.  
"You know the tune?"   
"It's _my_ CD."  
"That doesn't mean you listen to it."  
"Actually, it does. I don't buy anything and not listen to it. It's a rule." Grissom figured Greg for a small talker when he was virtually alone so he brought up varying subjects.  
"What is your sister's degree?"  
"Entomology."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. She's a lot like you actually. Quiet, not a people person. She signs too. Been deaf her whole life."  
"Do you sign?"  
"Yes. We all learned. Except my mother. She felt it unnesessary. To archaic for her I guess. Not a civilized way to speak to someone." Grissom felt a bit of frustration and moved on. However, Greg was no longer up for small talk and turned up Vivaldi.

After about twenty minutes of staring at cacti on the side of the road, Grissom turned down the music.  
"Why'd you do that?"  
"Why are you so quiet?"  
"I'm used to being in _my_ car _alone_."  
"So this is an inconvenience? You offered."  
"It's not an inconvenience. I'm just not used to driving for so long with someone _else_." Grissom nodded. "Besides, I bet you expected me to talk a mile a minute about myself and my family and what I enjoy and listen to looud obnoxious music and roll down the window and stop frequently for junk food. Didn't you?"  
"Only a little."  
"Yeah, well, I'm not going to do any of that."  
"Why don't you just fly out there?"  
"I'm...I...I'm afraid. Of...flying."  
"Nervous afraid or..."  
"No. It's a phobia. I am paranoid about everything when it comes to planes. I hate them. I can't breathe, I think we're going to crash, everything. It sucks, actually."   
"Wouldn't have known."  
"Yeah. You guys don't really know me that well. When I first started school, I couldn't read."  
"No one could."  
"No. I was dyslexic. I could read anything. My dad blew his top. He's an English prof at the university."  
"Interesting."  
"I'm also a hapless romantic. I believe in soul mates. I'm allergic to lobster and oysters. I've been best friends with one person since I was eight and we've gone everywhere together. When I was in college I fell in love with a girl named Laura. She fell in love with the whole campus. Loyal Laura we called her. I can play the piano. I have a large collection of books. I can sing and play the guitar at the same time. I write my own music and perform it occasionally it. I am politically savvy and find President Bush to be in a whole different dimension of 'moron'. There."


	2. Chapter 2

**Still don't own. Alas.**

**A little review was made that asked me if this was slash. As indicated in the summary it is not. I don't write slash fics. No offense to anyone in any way, I just don't write them. I can write out of character stuff, but just not slash. Not my forte either. Romances. Yeah. Enjoy! R&R! 3**

**Chapter 2**

As the highway lines ran past under Grissom's eyes, time did not. At least not as fast. Grissom eventually got a headache from the marvelous, if not loud, pianoforte and turned it off. Greg did not protest and continued driving.  
"How do you know how to get there?"  
"Everyone knows how to get home Grissom. Even me." Grissom noted the tone of frustration at the obvious lack of knowledge of the man driving him. The whole team's lack actually. Greg never volunteered information, but he always offered some up when questions were asked. It seemed strange to Grissom that he himself had never been curious enough about Greg. He was about all his other employees, and Greg wasn't just a lab tech either. He was closer than that, almost a friend. But Grissom withdrew from that idea quickly and quietly. Greg did not want to be Grissom's friend. He told him that by the way he sat stiff and uninviting in the driver's seat next to him. Small talk was all Grissom could get out of Greg Sanders.

"Blue."  
"Favorite food."  
"Indian."  
"Favorite dish."  
"Chicken curry."  
"Favorite book."  
"The Metamorphosis, Kafka."  
"Favorite era."  
"Sixties-Seventies."  
"That's two."  
"I have two favorites." Grissom sighed. This was a game he'd played with his father before he died. Before he had to grow up. Before his mother left him but left an empty shell behind. Greg was a good player, but he bent the rules. Two favorites, don't like to pick favorites of that. Things that would have annoyed Grissom's father, Grissom accepted as a part of Greg's character.  
"So your father teaches."  
"Yep."  
"And your mother?" He shrugged. "How can you not know?"  
"She packed her bag and left when I was... 16. Yeah, 16. Fell in love with a poet in New York. Then moved to Italy. I lost track of her around junior year of college. She's hard to keep up with."  
"I see." Grissom looked out the window, then back. "Are we there yet?" Greg rolled his eyes.  
"Almost." Almost obviously meant yes because Greg quickly turned off on an exit reading Santa Gabriel. Grissom hardly noticed the change in scenery it was so fast. Cactus gave way to large leafy trees and rose bushes. "It used to be more.. desert-y. But now it's tourist-y. Makes it look nice I guess. We always had trees, just not on this road." He shook his head in disgust.  
Grissom watched bed 'n breakfasts loom up and houses get bigger before his eyes. Greg turned down a few streets and parked in front of a yellow house with black shutters. "Your's?" He nodded. The front door opened and two young kids ran out.  
"Come meet the family."


End file.
